


An Irrational Proposal

by Nimori



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimori/pseuds/Nimori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy and Ron learn about family and acceptance, and also why you never double-dog dare a Weasley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Irrational Proposal

He ought to have known his brother would fetch up in a disreputable block of flats. The stairs were ill-lit, the corridor needed cleaning, and the door, when he knocked, left some unidentifiable brown substance on the knuckles of his gloves.

It opened at once though, and Percy stepped in. If he had been just a little less absorbed in polishing his sincere yet dignified apology, he might have noticed the brittle cast to Ron's smile before the door closed and locked behind him.

"Thank you for agreeing to hear me out, Ron." Percy wiped his shoes on the mat and, as there was no stand, hung his umbrella on the coat rack. A small puddle formed beneath it, creeping across the floor to fill the cracks in the linoleum. "Father's been impossible, and you know how the twins can put Mother in a temper. If they hadn't--"

"I didn't."

"Pardon?" Percy looked up from his gloves and their finicky buttons, and caught the so-slightly narrowed eyes and flush-dimmed freckles of a Weasley in a tightly controlled rage. He returned to his gloves and the time they gave him to adjust his speech to this new development.

"I didn't agree to listen to you." Ron's voice was measured and deliberate, and Percy silently commended him for finally learning control of his temper, however misdirected that temper currently was. "I agreed we could work things out."

Percy tucked his gloves in a pocket and hung up his cloak, adding another feeder to the growing puddle. A deep breath steadied him; it had been four years since he last dealt with his brother's nonsensical turns of conversation, and he liked to think he had matured enough to meet it with imperturbable calm. "If you don't want to listen to me, then how do you propose we 'work things out?'"

"I _propose_ we don't follow a bloody proposal," Ron said. "I _propose_ we bin the speech you worked on for four hours--"

"Three and a half," Percy murmured.

"--and settle this with some action."

"You want to duel me?" Percy's thoughts scrambled back to Defense classes, which he'd excelled at right up until seventh year, when Professor Lupin made it clear that textual knowledge alone was not good enough to be getting on with. And Ron, up to his unfortunate Prewett ears in the war, might not know the nine symptoms of a doxie bite, but Percy would wager a week's pay he knew thirty different ways to incapacitate an opponent without even drawing his wand.

Something in Percy's expression made Ron roll his eyes. "Waste of time, dueling you. You'd only lose." That odd smile returned, and now Percy could see the hard edges of it. It made him think of the way Mr Malfoy smiled whenever Mr Fudge had hedged on following his suggestions. He shivered, and put it down to the inadequate heat in Ron's flat.

"What _do_ you want then?"

"I want to know you're sincere," Ron said, stepping into Percy's personal space. Percy forced himself not to step back. "I want to know you know you can't come back here after the things you said to Mum and Dad -- the things you said about my best friend -- and act like you making Mum cry was some kind of diplomatic incident you can smooth over with a little speech."

It was exactly like a diplomatic incident, but Percy could see Ron wouldn't appreciate that sensible view. He'd stepped even closer, and Percy could hear his angry breath in the quiet flat.

"You've obviously thought this through," Percy said. His voice stayed quiet and level though the situation had surpassed the contingencies Percy had planned for, and the uncertainty set off an anxious flutter in his midsection that threatened to affect his throat. _Calm. You deal with emotional wizards at the office all the time. Talk him down._ "Why don't you tell me what you pro-- what you have in mind."

Ron smirked. Not even Mr Malfoy could look that dangerous with one expression, and Percy suddenly wondered if Ginny might have been a better choice for reestablishing contact with his family.

"Simple, Perce. You perform a few minor tasks to prove your sincerity, and this whole mess is behind us."

Percy nearly groaned, remembering all the 'tests' Bill and Charlie invented for him to pass before he could play with him -- many of which had ended with Percy in the waiting room at St Mungo's, hiccoughing butterflies or walking on his hands as they'd switched places with his feet.

"I'll even put in a few words for you with Dad," Ron continued, blithe voice contradicting his narrowed eyes. "He's mostly mad because he thinks you betrayed your principles or some rubbish, but I know you stuck to your convictions. Only they were bloody stupid convictions."

"If you think so, why--"

"_I'm_ mad at you because of what you tried to do to Harry. And for sending back Mum's jumper, even if it was a horrid colour."

Percy put up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Let's just pretend we're six. I'll play your game."

Ron's smile broadened. "Brilliant. Go into the bedroom. You'll see what to do next."

"You're being a child," Percy muttered, and stalked over to the closed door, since the open one led to the facilities. The stalk had less of an impact than he'd hoped, since it took only three steps to cross Ron's tiny lounge. "I'd hoped Granger's better habits would have --" Percy's breath froze in his throat.

A lacy pink negligee lay on the bed, cheap and gaudy but obviously new, the sort of item he expected to see in a tasteless gag shop.

"Ronald," he said, not turning.

"Put it on, Percy."

This was going too far. All the reasons he had left home came rushing back.

They didn't respect him, refused to see logic, made him the butt of their jokes... knew he would prepare a speech and how long it would take him. Didn't hesitate to open the door even after all the nasty things the papers had said about him and everyone else from the Minister's staff. Were more angry with him for rejecting Mum's jumpers than siding with Lucius Malfoy once upon a time.

He thought of his quiet flat, the painful teas taken alone or with his dotty downstairs neighbour, who smelled of turnips and always brought the same brand of biscuit. Thought of the uniform disapproval whenever he walked through Diagon Alley, the way everyone judged him for things others in Mr Scrimgeour's office had done.

The way he didn't mind that Ron held him to harsher and more illogical standards.

He put on the negligee.

It cinched in some places, hung loose in others, and the scratchy lace alternated with silky bands of ribbon, rubbing against his skin. He wasn't used to noticing the feel of his clothes, nor to having them show more of his body than they covered. He tugged at the hem, only to drag the neckline lower.

_Oh, hell,_ Percy thought, shocking himself. _It's not like Ron's never seen me nude before._ He straightened as much as he dared in the short garment, and returned to the lounge.

"Here," he said, and fought the urge to hunch. "I've done as you asked, now have your laugh and let's be done with it."

Ron wasn't laughing. In fact he didn't even look amused. His widened eyes crawled up and down Percy's body, pausing at times, but he was far enough away that Percy couldn't tell what caught his attention. Percy's face heated, matching the red flush that subsumed Ron's freckles once more.

Ron swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Very... Very good."

"Are we done then?"

The dazed look fled and Ron's voice hardened. "No. On your knees."

The most certain course of action abruptly shifted, and Percy pictured himself storming back to the bedroom, dressing, walking out. Ron pictured it too; Percy could see it in the bitten lip, the sudden tightness around the blue eyes.

He didn't know which of them was more surprised when he dropped to his knees as bid.

Ron, Percy noted smugly even as his insides began quivering in a way he never expected to feel around his little brother, looked as though the Cannons had just taken the championship.

The gobsmacked look vanished soon enough into uncertainty, and then into the look of a Weasley who'd been double-dog dared to jump off the roof with no broomstick -- a look that once exasperated Percy (and, if he told the truth, frightened him) but now made him so fiercely homesick he could taste the nostalgia on his tongue. It pinned him in place more surely than a permanent sticking charm, and kept him there even when Ron lowered his zip and dropped trousers and pants in one go.

Percy shot a swift nervous glance at Ron's penis; it wasn't hard, but it was showing definite signs of interest. It vanished as Ron turned, and a pair of round firm freckled buttocks came into view.

"You like to kiss arse, Percy. Go ahead then. Kiss it."

_Little Priss Percy begs us for mercy, crying he'll tattle to Mum.  
He won't tell a fib, and plays like a squib, for Percy he hates to have fun._

Percy had never jumped off the roof, no matter how many times the twins or Charlie -- who should have known better -- taunted him. His jaw shot into its most stubborn position and leaden rage kindled in his stomach.

He lunged forward, not to kiss but to bite, and bite hard.

Ron yelped and Percy snatched at his hips, tongue snaking out to lap at the bruised flesh in not-quite remorse.

"Christ on a flying fucking carpet!"

Percy stole a fierce triumphant grin, and sucked hard on the bite, kissing, licking, _attacking_ until Ron fisted his hair and pulled him off. Another quarter turn and it was Ron's penis... his _cock_ in Percy's face, and he kissed that too just because he could, and heard a sharp gasp before Ron's other hand seized an ear and the head barged into his mouth.

He swallowed as the glans bumped the back of his throat, and kept swallowing as Ron kept thrusting, until Percy finally had to shove him away so he could breathe.

"I'm going to come in your face," Ron said.

"'kay," Percy choked past his raw throat.

"And then I'm going to fuck you," Ron added in the same matter-of-fact tone.

Percy nodded, staring at the glistening tip of Ron's cock.

"You'd do it, wouldn't you?" Something in Ron's voice had changed; some small part of the brother he'd once known had emerged, and it was that which gave Percy the courage to nod again.

"Why?"

"I... I don't understand. You said I had to--"

"I'm not holding a wand to your head. Why do you need my approval so badly?"

Percy flushed. "I know I made a mistake, but at least I'm willing to own up to it."

"Oh, shut up. I don't care about that anymore and you know it."

"You said nothing of the kind." Percy knew he ought to feel outraged at this, but his heart was thudding too loudly.

"Go lie down on the bed," Ron said, challenge and wonder in his voice. Percy rose with as much grace as a bony wizard in a frilly pink negligee could muster, and stepped into the dim bedroom and lay on his stomach on the bed, heart drumming.

_I double-dog dare you, Ronald Weasley._

Ron watched from the doorway for a moment before he came in and rummaged in the bedside drawer as if he'd heard the dare. "Take that ridiculous thing off," he said, a low growl behind the words. "I don't fuck girls."

Percy pulled the flimsy negligee off, tearing it in his haste, and had time to register that his baby brother kept lube and protective charms next to his bed before Ron was turning him over. He knelt between Percy's thighs for a long moment, lube in one hand, pulsing blue sphere in the other, staring down at Percy. He'd kicked off his trousers and pants at some point, but left on the old Weird Sisters t-shirt that had once been Bill's, and his erection nudged up the frayed hem of it.

Then the lube landed on the bed and Ron expertly pierced the soft bubble, and the charm burst over his prick, leaving the shaft with a faint blue sheen.

"I haven't got anything," Percy said, and licked his lower lip. There hadn't been anyone to get anything from since the mess at the Minister's office.

"I might." The nonchalance with which Ron said this made Percy wonder how they could be from the same species, let alone the same family. "Better to be safe. Done this with a man before?" Cool fingers probed between his cheeks, but stilled as Percy shook his head. "Right," Ron said, and took a deep breath.

The fingers resumed their motion, gentler now. They dipped inside, gone before Percy could register their presence, and then came back, firmer now, more demanding, uncomfortable until they touched a spot Percy didn't know he had. He arched off the bed, a gasp clawing his throat.

Ron seemed to like this response, and fell on him, kissed his neck, arm awkward between his own body and Percy's thigh. Percy wanted to ask questions, analyze the sensation, find the _why_ of it, but it was just like that long-ago discovery of what his penis could do if he touched it: no room for thought or analysis, only feeling. He wondered if this was how his brothers lived their whole lives.

"So fucked up," Ron moaned against Percy's neck. Percy gurgled agreement. "You ready?"

"Yes."

"You want it?"

"Yes." Louder. Almost a sob. Something much larger than fingers nudged him, pushed inside. _Ron_ pushed inside.

"So do I," Ron said, voice breathless. "Want you. Want to make you feel."

"I feel."

"Not enough. Not without restrictions, control. Let go, Percy. Let me see you. The real you."

"This is me."

Ron thrust, hard, tearing pain and pleasure and Percy cried out and closed his eyes.

"Don't," Ron said. It wasn't an order but a plea. "Don't imagine I'm someone I'm not. Look at me." Percy forced his eyes open to find Ron staring down at him, fierce desperation in his tight mouth and piercing gaze. "Look at me," he said again, even though Percy hadn't even blinked. "Who am I?"

"Ron."

"Besides that."

"My brother."

Ron groaned and rocked his hips. The burning pressure eased into flares of heat. "Do you love me, even though I'm a belligerent little wanker?"

"Yes." He didn't realize Ron knew what belligerent meant.

"Do I love you, even though you're a prissy git?"

"Yeah. Yes."

Ron's much larger hands seized his wrists, pinned them to the pillow. "Then why the fuck did you go away?"

_I needed to learn who I was away from all of you._ "So I could come back." He hadn't known either was true before now.

Ron didn't speak, but sped his thrusts, working like a madman, and Percy realized he was chanting, "Fuck me, fuck me, please," over and over and Ron was answering yes each time. His erection nudged Ron's stomach and caught in the shirt hem at each thrust, and the fleeting contact drove him to the edge.

He groaned, a wounded sound to his own ears, and Ron released his wrists, pulled Percy's legs to his shoulders, bent him nearly double and fucked him hard. One hand caught Percy's cock, pulled once, twice, and then nothing mattered but the pure hot pleasure rolling through him, melting his bones, reducing him to sensation.

Ron made a choked sound and Percy focused on the bitten lip, over-bright eyes. The flush darkening his skin went all the way down his neck to vanish under the shirt collar, and sweat glistened over his skin. Percy reached up to touch, but Ron caught his hand, brought the palm to his lips. Ron moaned and stiffened, hips jerking to a halt, arching hard into Percy's body.

Everything melted into stillness after that. Ron rolled off, lay on his back, panting. Percy stared up at the ceiling. The euphoria was fading into a chorus of aches.

Then Ron turned back to him and snaked an arm over his chest, and Percy's own arm crept around Ron's shoulder.

He ought to be properly horrified. At himself, at his brother. Yet he only felt as though a routine he never knew he'd missed had resumed. Something wild and out of control, but that was the norm for his family.

And maybe if he could accept them as they were, they could do the same for him.

"You're thinking too loud," Ron mumbled, and Percy snorted.

"Just because you turn your brain off in between uses--" Warm sleepy lips silenced him. Really, he could like this new authoritative (bossy, a younger voice inside him said) Ron. When had his little brother grown up? When had--

"Percy. Thinking." A silence, and Percy thought he had fallen asleep before Ron whispered into his hair, "Welcome home."


End file.
